


The Ripper

by Fiore_Feidlimid_Fiete



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Blood, Blood and Gore, Depression, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Murder, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiore_Feidlimid_Fiete/pseuds/Fiore_Feidlimid_Fiete
Summary: They had what she couldn't. It was unfair.A short vent fic as well as a bit of a character study.
Kudos: 10





	The Ripper

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW: Graphic depictions of murder, implied gender dyphoria. May trigger gender dysphoria in transgender individuals. Do be careful if you're sensitive to gore.

-

Her pretty scream was silenced by the gurgling of blood in her throat, eventually fading into the darkness of the evening. The only colour was a beautiful, vivid red, illuminated by the faint glow of a nearby streetlight. It was the colour that filled everyone, that granted life to everyone, no matter who. The whore's drab smokey-brown hair looked so much better drenched in it.

If Grell's goal was to just kill the woman, this would easily be enough, but it wasn't. Her goal was to desecrate, defile, degrade! She would drag this girl's beautiful insides out of her, and she would do it with pleasure. It was cathartic, the feeling of piercing into her abdomen, like biting into an éclair. Glistening yellow and soft ivory were soon painted crimson. In her frenzied movements, she accidentally cut into an artery, and laughed with bliss as her face became dotted with the warmth of the girl's blood. It was the same warmth that ran through her own veins. They were the same! Except...

Grell sneered, carelessly slicing through the woman's skin and tearing through her muscle, squirming with uncontainable glee when she spotted it. That. The thing she could never have. She couldn't have children, she couldn't be a wife, she couldn't have the smooth skin that looked so irresistible with flecks of red. She couldn't be a woman worth calling a woman, and now, in death, neither would this damn whore who had everything Grell didn't and threw it all away! If she was allowed it, she would've cut the wench open while still alive, but the screams surely would've been heard.

Without hesitation, she plunged her hand straight into the woman's body, feeling her insides with all the revery of a maiden in love for the first time. With one, two, four messy, oozing slices of the knife, it came loose, and Grell was able to pull it out with surprising ease. It never failed to amuse her as of late, how fragile and easily dismantled the human body was. And yet, people still put such emphasis on it. A stupid meat sack built to hide pathetic truths. She regarded the body coldly, then smiled, her eyes glimmering. She stood, tossed the precious organ onto the ground, and stomped it into pretty red and pink mush under her heels, like the filling of a strawberry shortcake. Perhaps if that thing never existed, people would've been able to see her in life. But it did, and she couldn't have it, and now she was dead and still nobody saw her for who she was!

A bitter laugh rang out, and it took Grell a moment to realize it was the sound of her own dry, throaty voice. She eventually stopped laughing and stood staring upwards, towards the ever-watching moon. _Why,_ she pleaded with it, _Why have I been given such a disgusting body?_

A body that had to kill in order to feel whole.


End file.
